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Here's Hoping for The Worst!	By : V021 Category: Comics > Squee! Views: 1788 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Squee!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 1: Olderstyle='font-size:9.0pt'>
“I like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things.” – Tom Waite
Todd lay in bed, watching the clock tick away each minute in its sickly green digital glow. 5:57 am. He’d been staring at the clock since two that morning. Reaching over, he flicked off the alarm and sat up.
“You should do something about this.” Shmee hummed from his spot on the dresser. “Insomnia is sign of mental illness, and I’m sure you don’t want to go back to the Defective Head-meats Institute. There are mother’s little helpers in the medicine chest…”
Todd didn’t respond and pointedly kept from looking at the grinning bear. He stared at the calendar, staring hard at the tiny note scrawled at the bottom of today’s date box. It was that day again. Every year since he was little, Todd would put a reminder on every new calendar he got in the childish hope that maybe someone else would remember. No one ever did, and after leaving the Institute it just didn’t matter. But he kept on putting a remainder for that day even though it was stupid to look forward to it.
Getting up, Todd wandered over to the closet and blindly grabbed for some clothes. Today looked like another frayed jeans and trashy black shirt day again. He yanked them on quickly before finally turning to the dresser.
“Are we going to say anything to me this morning, Squee? Or are you going to continue this foolishness?”
“You’re not real, Shmee” muttered Todd, digging for socks. “You only exist in my head. I made up to keep myself company, an imaginary friend who is the personification of my suppressed desires to lash out against others. There is no you, there is only me.”
The teddy bear laughed. “In a way, you are right Squee. I am indeed the product of your mind, birth by your alienation and feed by the darkness within your heart. I protect you from the evil, soaking up all those horrible, terrible feelings to save you from the monsters… Yet there is so much more! Perhaps the therapists have told you wrong, Squee. Maybe there is no you, only me.”
“I’m not in the mood for this right now.” Todd grumbled, rutting around deeper in the drawer until he finally found the last pack of cigarettes. He shook it, frowning. “Crap. It’s almost empty.”
“I don’t understand why you bother hiding them. It’s not like your parents give a damn. You could have a fucking crackpipe in one hand, a needle in your arm and they’d both wish you would O.D.”
Todd glared at the bear. “I know. They don’t care, but Johnny does.”
“Ah yes… Johnny.” He cringed at the vile chuckle of Shmee’s voice. “Johnny, the scary neighbor guy. The man who traumatized you night after night after night with those horrific, morbid bedtime stories. He hasn’t been around for months, much to our relief, and yet you’re worried about him finding out you smoke!”
“Okay. The last thing I need today is to listen to fictional voices in my head bitch at me. So please, be quiet.”
There was a sullen silence. Todd smirked in victory and grabbed his backpack. Beyond the door of his father’s office, he could faintly hear snoring and knew better than to wake dad up to see if he remembered it was that day. The stairs creaked under foot, slightly muffled by the hypnotic buzz of infomercial hosts describing the latest new gizmo you could get for just 500 monthly payments of $99.99! In the dead glow of the television, Todd made out his mother slumped over the couch with an arrangement of medicine bottles and multicolored pills scattered over the coffee table. Creeping around, he picked up his mother’s purse and took out a wrinkled ten-dollar bill.
“Excuse me, young man.” Todd froze, staring at his mother staring mildly at him over the couch’s back. “Who are you? And why do have my purse? Are you a burglar?”
“No. I’m Todd. You’re son,” he added dully. Maybe this year…
“I have kids?” his mother purred in dreamy surprise.
Todd slumped, letting out a miserable sigh. “Just me, mom. Just me. Uh, do you mind if I borrow some money? I’m out of cigarettes and there’s been nothing to eat in the house since last weekend.”
“Oh! Okay.” Todd’s mother staggered over to him and pressed a massive wad of bills into his hand. She giggled girlishly. “It’s not much, I think… Mommy doesn’t really need anything for the store, so…uh, Tom? Have a nice day at kindergarten.”
“I’m Todd, mom. And I’m in the ninth grade now.”
But she wasn’t listening anymore. Todd’s mother had stumbled back to the couch and fell back into her stoner’s trance.
“Thanks…” he sighed to nobody, stuffing the money into his pocket uncounted as he left the house. Todd unchained his bike from the mailbox and wheeled it to the sidewalk. It wasn’t that he was afraid his bike would be stolen, since it was ‘so last month, duce’ and patched up with duct-tape and rust. He kept it locked up because lately Pepito, in his ongoing campaign to be Todd’s best friend, had taken it upon him demonic self to give Todd a lift to school in his car. Todd didn’t dare think about how fifteen year-old could have gotten a license without ever once taking Driver’s Ed. In a choice between dodging the early morning delivery trucks or risking life, sanity, and virtue riding with the Antichrist, Todd decided that potentially becoming road-pizza was okay by him.
Pushing his way up the street, Todd paused a moment to stare at #777. The yard was still a barren stretch of dirt with a few clots of bone-dry grass sticking up here and there. ‘Stay off yard. It’s rude to walk on the dead,” read the choppy scrawl across a wooden sign by the stained front walk. Todd doubted the scary neighbor guy was joking about that, considering all the times he’d looked out the window at night and seen Johnny dumping various mangled bits into holes.
Even now, he expected to hear the screams of Johnny’s latest victims, but there hadn’t been any active in the house since Todd had seen his neighbor lugging an armful of books inside. By chance, not that Todd wanted to know or anything, he’d picked up a book Johnny had dropped and read the title.
“Mindfulness in Plain English, by Bhante Henepola Gunaratana? Why all this stuff on Buddhism?” Todd remembered mumbling aloud as he glanced at the back cover before Johnny snapped around and snatched the book away.
“Because I want to achieve Nirvana, the extinction of all want, all emotion, and all suffering,” rasped Johnny, eyes glinting madly. “It’s deathlessness, which I have but can’t enjoy because I still feel, Squee! Months of soul-searching and traveling around trying to find meaning to my existence and I was getting nowhere! Then it dawned on me. The Library! Surely I could find answers there! So I’ve spent the last five days going back and forth, reading every last book on philosophy and religion and all that other existentialist ‘meaning of life’ bullshit trying to figure out why I’m me. And all I got out of it were fucking paper cuts! Paper cuts, Squee!” He waved his bandaged fingers under Todd’s nose. “And then I found it! In the stupid EyeWitless: Chinese Religion! BUDDHISM! FUCKING NIRVANA! The core goal is to achieve enlightenment that the emotions and desires are meaningless and only make us suffer! To get there, you have to get over the false idea of self, which causes among other things craving, consciousness, birth, death, greed, hate, delusion, ignorance… All the asshole crap that the media crackheads tell us is a good thing! It’s FREEDOM, Squee! It’s found out the abso-fucking-lute truth! And, after I’m find out how that weirdly jolly Asian fat man did it, I’ll get free of all my crazy!”
Todd smiled weakly. “That’s…that’s good to hear, Johnny. Hope that works out for you.”
Grinning psychotically, Johnny bounded into his house gibbering about unbecoming himself.
And now, seven months later, Todd still hadn’t seen Johnny leave the house. Maybe his neighbor really had achieved Nirvana and was peacefully enjoying his enlightenment in seclusion. Then again, this was Johnny… He probably snapped and went off to India or China or where it was Buddha lives to hack the jolly fat monk up with a cleaver. But Todd had the sneaking suspicion that Johnny was still there. What made that feeling even weirder was the house itself. It seemed to be waiting for something… The air was like that tensed moment between inhaling and exhaling a breath, the anticipation of something about the burst…
“What if the monster’s escaped again, Squee?” murmured Shmee, smiling darkly from over Todd’s shoulder.
That shook Todd from his musing. “I thought I left you at home.”
“You need me.” The bear growled nicely. “Especially if Johnny’s little problem had gotten loose. I suppose you remember what happened last time…”
“Yes. But Tess is doing okay now.” He paused, getting on his bike. “Well, at least she’s not huddled up in the closet gibbering anymore…”
The bear just laughed then lapsed into silence.
By the time Mister Zimmerfield the Janitor unlocked the doors, Todd had smoked two packs of Red Apples and finished another story. He sat on the ‘P.S. 2112’ sign, watching his classmates wander toward the high school with their looks of teen angst and overpriced Goth-punk-emo wardrobes bought from the trendiest stores in the mall. The pretty hate parade wheeled its way past him without so much as a glance or care. It all made Todd wonder why he didn’t just drop out and home school himself.
At five till, a menacing black ’69 Camaro came roaring up the street and squealed to a nerve-shattering stop in front of the school. Todd cringed a little when Pepito got out and made straight for him.
“Where have you been, Squee?” he began, looking a bit hurt. “You could at least wait on me for once.”
“I…uh, had some errands to run.”
The Anti-Christ glared. “You run errands at six in the morning?”
Todd nodded stupidly, then squeaked in terror as Pepito dragged him into school. It must’ve been amusing for their classmates to see the ungodly spawn of Satan easily cow Todd who had the misfortune of being not only the skinniest kid in school but also the tallest. The humor factor went up even more because Pepito barely came up to Todd’s chest…in heels. Six-inch combat boot heels, to be precise. And the whole time, Pepito grumbled and ranted about courtesy and the value of friendship and why did the hallways always smell like rancid cheese?
“Do you have any idea how long I waited on you this morning?” snapped the Antichrist, coming to a halt in front of locker 666. He let go of Squee and, wrenching open the locker, started grabbing his books. “Nearly two hours, Squee! Two fucking hours that could’ve been spent with Ms. Honey improving both our GPAs, if you get my drift. I was worried shitless about you, thinking you’d gotten some fucked plague or some shit! And when I went in to make sure those soulless pigs hadn’t left you to die in a corner of the basement…” Pepito turned to Todd, fixing him with a uniquely hellish glare. “Squee, if I ever have to deal with that snide rat-bastard of a mortal which sired you again, I’m going to…”
“Don’t you hurt my dad!” Todd yelped. “I’m sure he wasn’t trying to be mean. It’s just that he has to work all the time because I wasn’t crazy enough to stay forever in that awful mental institution. I guess it’s my fault that dad’s cranky all the time and mom’s always taking pills…”
Pepito stared at him, watching Todd wring the straps of his backpack in his hands. “Squee, I hate to say this since you’re my friend and it’s just not my place to, but your dad’s going to hell. And his miserable existence was never your fault because the man was an apathetic little shit decades before he got your wretched mother knocked up. And the only reason they’ve stayed married this long is because of that fucking Catholic dogma that it’s a sin to get divorced.”
“I’m Catholic?” muttered Todd, trying to grasp the concept. All his life, he could never recall a single moment when his family had shown any sign of religious leanings though he did remember being terrified of penguins since he was a baby. Slowly, he repeated, “I’m Catholic?”
“Yes. You are.” With a comforting pat on the shoulder, Pepito sighed, “You have my condolences, Squee.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” asked a friendly little voice at Todd’s elbow. He looked down at the equally friendly little caramelly face smiling up at him. “Hi, my name’s Rufus Sloane. Nice to met you, Squee.”
“It’s Todd, actually. Todd Casil.” He shook the hand Rufus offered, unaware of the utter horror and rage flashing across Pepito’s face. “It’s nice to met you too, I guess.” He paused awkwardly, then said, “I’m not really good at this sort of thing. People usually either forget I exist or they’re all sick evil people or are trying to do horrible things to me…”
“I dunno why.” Rufus replied. “You seem like a really nice person. A bit geeky and weird, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of. My whole family’s kind weird, especially Dad with His warped sense of humor... I mean, just look at the platypus! Now if that’s not a sign He’s gets the joke, I don’t know what is. By the way, who’s your friend with the mohawk and horns?”
“Oh, that’s Pepito. He’s my stalk—er…my next door neighbor. He’s the Antichrist.”
“Well, it’s nice to finally met you.” Rufus chirped, waving sweetly.
Surging forward, Pepito grabbed Todd by the neck and put him a headlock. “Stay away from him, filthy son of light! This mortal belongs to me! You shall not draft him into the army of God with false hopes of friendship and holy goodness! YOUR JEDI MIND TRICKS WILL NOT WORK HERE!”
“Umm…maybe you should loosen you grip there. He’s turning blue.”
“Eh? Oh crap.” Releasing his grip, Pepito gave his half-strangled friend a weak smile. “Sorry about that.”
Todd was too busy gulping sweet, delicious, life-sustaining air to notice the apology. Reaching down, Rufus helped Pepito get him to his feet.
“You okay?” asked both Pepito and Rufus in unison.
Todd nodded lamely, pulling away from them.
“Well, you look like you’ll live. Sorry to run, but I’ve gotta get my homeroom assignment and schedule. See you guys later,” hummed Rufus, strolling off down the hall.
“So Rufus’ is new here. Well, that’s explains a lot. Seems nice,” Todd murmured, walking toward his locker.
“Nice? NICE!” rasped Pepito as he jogged alongside him. “Do you know who the fuck he is?”
“She.” Todd corrected, wrestling with the bolt on his rusty locker door. “Rufus is a girl. I thought you of all people would’ve noticed the huge boobs. ”
“Wait. The Second Coming’s a girl?”
Todd shot him a nasty look. “And why not? I mean it’s a bit stupid to think that God’s an asshole chauvinist pig. I mean, for all we know, God could be a She. Besides, who says Rufus is the Second Coming? Maybe she’s just a nice person. Why does it have to be that the only people that like me always have to end up being psychos or the spawn of demons? Can’t you just accept the fact that for once a normal, decent person finally accepts me as a fellow human being!”
“You naiveté is showing again, my friend.” Pepito answered with a snarl. “Surely you did catch that she talked about her Father with a capital “F”. And, if I’m not mistaken, she was quick to acknowledge me as Antichrist.”
“You mean the horns and the fact ‘666’ ends up in every number sequence assigned to you wasn’t a give-away? Maybe her family’s religious.”
Pepito laughed. “Well, I suppose being the great, great, great, great, great, GREAT grand-niece of Jesus-fucking-Christ does make for a very religious upbringing indeed.”
Slamming his locker shut, Todd rounded on him. “You know what? I honestly don’t feel like dealing with your militant ‘join the Dark side’ bullshit right now. So fuck off.”
He stormed off, leaving Pepito standing there blank faced in shock. Then Shmee decided to speak up.
“That was unexpectedly brutal, my boy,” hummed the bear. “Usually, your too scared of being turned into a revolting pile of slug parts to even think of telling him off. I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t be.” Todd mumbled. “There’s nothing for me to be proud of.”
“You’re simply upset that nobody remembers it’s your birthday.”
Pulling Shmee out, Todd screamed “SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT MY BIRTHDAY, YOU LINTY BASTARD!”
Everyone stopped their inane pre-class chattering to stare at the crazy boy shaking a ratty teddy bear. Todd felt blood flushing his rather sickly pale face as he quietly slinked to his desk in the very back of the room and frantically wished that he could become invisible right now.
“Today’s your birthday?” Pepito asked, settling into the desk in front of Todd’s.
Todd put his arms over his head and tried burrowing into the plywood with his nose.
“Squee…”
“So what?” he muttered, not looking up at the devilish face looking at him. “ Why should I care that it’s my birthday? It’s not like anyone else gives a shit…”
“I do.”
Todd glared at Pepito. “Gee, thanks. It makes me feel so much better knowing that Satan’s crotch-drippings cares that I’m fifteen. Makes today really fucking special for me.”
The smack resounded through the classroom.
“Sorry, but it was for your own good,” apologized the Antichrist, helping Todd back into his seat. “These mood swings are starting to get on my nerves.”
“What mood swings? I don’t have mood swings.” Todd sniffed, rubbing the bruised side of his head.
“There! You’re doing it right now!” Pepito pointed a finger at him. “One minute, you’re the Old Squee, all scared and squeaky and cute and innocent…and then, BAM! You go off on a psychotic rant! I’ve never seen you get so malicious, so sadistic, so evil… It’s fucking disturbing. Yet evil does look good on you Squee. Really good…”
Looking away from that demonic leer, Todd happened to see that the new kid Rufus had walked in and was heading for the empty desk to his right. His relieved smile betrayed him.
“What are you grinning…”
“Hellos again!” Rufus chirped, setting down with that pleasant permagrin on her face. “Seems like we’ve got homeroom together. Funny coincidence, huh?”
“Damn you, damn you, damn you…” was all Pepito growled before turning away.
Todd only laughed and quickly started chatting with Rufus. By the end of homeroom, they were acting like old buddies (much to the disgust of a certain unholy half-fiend). It turned out that not only did Rufus have the same class schedule as Todd, but was also Catholic and actually turned out to be one of those rare people who actually was a decent human being. The only fault he could find in her was the fact that she kept trying to get Pepito do more than curse her attempts at friendliness, but then again it was awfully good of her to try. He spent whole day talking with Rufus about anything and everything, absolutely enraptured by the idea that there was good in the world after all.
When the last bell rang, Todd was happy to exchange numbers with Rufus before breaking away from her to find his bike and go home. He didn’t see Pepito waiting for him until it was too late… Within seconds, Todd found himself strapped in the passenger seat of the Camaro with a fuming Antichrist driving at a stomach-churning pace. They finally came to a tire screeching halt at the International House Of Eating 24-7 and before Todd could protest or escape, he was dragged inside and shoved into a conveniently secluded booth.
Once the waitress had left, Pepito light a cigar and started puffing away as he talked. “Alright, Squee. This game of spiting me has gone far enough.”
“What are you talking about?” Squee asked. He nervously fiddled with a cigarette.
“We’ve known each other since kindergarten! Kindergarten!” snapped the Antichrist in a huff of smoke. “This is the first time I have ever seen you give so freely of yourself to another person. You barely know that girl and yet you’ve told her things today that you always kept from me. You have told her of you dreams, your fears, you ambitions… And never have you been as open with me as you have with this Rufus. You’ve shared more feelings and love with her in a mere day than you shared with me in ten years.” Pepito looked on the verge of tears. “Why must you deny me this, Squee? Why?”
For a moment, Todd couldn’t speak. Then words began to bubble up on his tongue and, unable to stop them, Todd found his lips giving those words shape. They flowed out his mouth in a quiet torrent of hate. “Why? I’ll tell you why: Because you’re a fucking monster, Pepito. Since I met you, I’ve spent my life in utter fear of what you might do to me if I ever pissed you off. You’re yet another nightmarish thing in my shitty existence to plague my waking days with your disgusting evil and your leers and you fucked up innuendos. It sickens me.” Todd got to his feet and snarled over his shoulder as he began walking out of the restaurant. “I want never to see you again, Pepito.”
---
The clock read two o’clock. Todd rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head.
“Still not asleep?” asked Shmee, looking down from the wall Todd had stabbed him to. “It’s been almost two months…”
“Be quiet,” came the hiss as Todd jerked the blankets around himself tighter. “Or I’m putting you in the garbage disposal.”
“More threats…” Shmee chuckled. “I’m sure you have notice that you’re getting worse, Squee. Day by day, hour-by-hour, a sickness grows within you. It makes you want to hurt, to kill. Even Rufus is beginning to see the corruption inside you.”
Looking out from underneath the blankets, Todd glared at the bear. “Shut up.”
“And Pepito knew you were sick long before you realized it.” The bear rattled on. “That’s why you drove him away. He saw the sickness and wanted to use it to make you his slave. But Rufus doesn’t want sick servants. Once she realizes what you’re becoming, she will destroy you. None of them want to save you, Squee. Only I can help you now. Trust in me again, boy, and I can bring you a cure to your sickness. All you need to do is give in…just give in…”
“FUCK YOU!” Todd jumped out of bed, still dressed, and stormed out of the room. Downstairs, the front door slammed.
“Nice going, fuzzy,” sneered a part of the darkness. “At this rate, I’m never going to be free.”
“Patience, my doughy friend.” Shmee murmured soothingly. “He’ll break soon enough. And then you both shall have form again.”
From another part of darkness a second voice grumped, “But master, I like oblivion.”
“Hush.” At that, the house fell into ominous silence.
---
Over and over again, the latest poet kept groaning about the pits of misery he was soaking in, the delicious taste of funeral delights, or some other Goth shit like that but Todd wasn’t paying attention. Carpe Jugular’s open-mike night might be an annoying gimmick, but this was the only bar open this late Todd knew of that wouldn’t card him. And given the week he’d been having, getting shit-faced seemed like a wonderful escape.
‘Maybe I’ll get drunk enough to read some of my stuff tonight…’ Todd snickered at the idea of all these self-proclaimed jaded hedonists vomiting from the vileness of his writings. Then again, after listen to the garbage losers like Gwish and her cronies spewed into the microphone, this black clad jackass were probably nausea proofed. He lifted his beer only to find that it was empty. Disappointment hit him like an ice cream cone hitting the sidewalk. “Damn it.”
Suddenly, a bottle of whiskey and two glasses materialized in front of him. Todd stared at the bottle in amazement.
“Go ahead. Have a drink on me.”
Turning slowly, Todd found himself face to face with a slightly worn-out Antichrist. “It’s poisoned, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be stupid.” Pepito snapped, setting down beside him. He poured them each a shot and shoved one into Todd’s hand. “Just act like you don’t loathe me for five minutes, okay?”
Todd sighed, downing the whiskey in a gulp. “Um, do you mind telling me why you’re here?”
“Because I couldn’t find enough lemons and salt to rub in my wounds.”
“I’m sorry.”
Pepito slammed his glass on the bar. “Sorry? This is the first time you’ve actually spoken to me in weeks without screaming and all you can manage is a lame little ‘sorry’?”
“At least I’m trying!” Todd snapped back. “It’s not like I’m the one in the wrong here! You went bunny-boiling crazy just because Rufus is a friend of mine. And let’s not forget you’re little bitch fest about me going to church.”
“Fuck God! He’s never been there for you like I have.”
Todd started to reply, then shook his head and poured himself another shot. “No. I’m not getting into this argument with you again.” He downed it. “You won’t listen, no matter what the hell I say. So, let us both shut up and just sit here drinking ourselves stupid.”
“Fine,” agreed Pepito, refilling both their glasses. “Let’s do just that.”
And so they sat at the bar, drinking themselves into stupidity as another poet bleated on about the magnificence of her last boyfriend’s suicide and how beautifully cruel he was for leaving her behind with the delights of suffering. Suddenly, both Todd and Pepito began to laugh.
“Damn! Doesn’t she know what happens to suicides in the afterlife?” giggled Pepito. “Sweetie, being a civil servant for all of eternity is nothing to glorify!”
“And what the fuck is with this ‘drawing the razor across his wrist’? Don’t any of you kids do the fucking research anymore?” Todd barked and, leaping up on stage, demonstrated the proper way to slit one’s wrists. “See? You’ve must take the blade up the forearm to open that vein up right! Otherwise you’ll be lying there for hours waiting to die.” He jerked the mike away from the girl, feeling a rant coming on. “You fuckers don’t have any idea what it’s like to really want to die, do you? All you pampered shitsacks care about is how cool you look in that brand new corset and finding new ways to bitch about being so misunderstood when you treat other like shit. You poser bastards use the Goth subculture as an excuse to alienate and ridicule others to bolster your own lack of self-esteem. Misery and suffering aren’t things to be celebrated, you holes: They are a reminder that life sucks balls. Life makes you want to die. And there’s nothing beautiful about wanting death, fucktards! Suicide is a cry for help! It’s the drastic attempt to make human contact which pretentious motherfuckers like you deny others. So you all can go fuck yourselves.”
Throwing down the mike, Todd jumped off the stage after giving the stunned crowd the finger. He felt himself shaking and sweating feverishly as he scrapped the horse-laughing Antichrist off the floor. “Come on Pepito, let’s get out of here before I end up killing people.”
“Aw…but it’s just getting fun!” he pouted with a snicker then saw the look on Todd’s face.
“Let’s go. Now.” Todd carried the smaller boy out of Carpe Jugular. As they staggered down the street, he kept wondering what possessed him to get up in front of all those idiots in the first place. Was he that drunk? Was it because Pepito thought it funny? Wait. When did he start caring what the devil-boy thought of him? And why the hell did he suddenly want to find an out-of-the-way spot and tear off Pepito’s clothes with his teeth?
“Uh, Squee?”
Todd put that disturbing image out his mind for a second. “Yeah?”
“You can put me down now.”
“Sorry!” He let Pepito down, but kept an arm about his waist.
Pepito gave him a strange look. “Squee, why are you still touching my ass?”
“I’m not touching your ass!” Todd shrieked. Then he noticed where his hand was resting. “Okay, maybe I am! But it’s not like…I mean… oh shit.”
There was a nasty, smug grin on Pepito’s face. “I can’t say I’m not enjoying this turn of events, but it’s probably because we’re both shitfaced so I won’t throw you up against that wall and fuck your brains out. Not that I don’t want to. It’s just that I want you to know I think you fuckable sober.”
“Right…” Nodding sleepily, Todd took a step back. “You want to walk home with me? I don’t think I’d like to pass out in the gutters around here. The hoboes might eat me.”
“Sure.” As they stumbled toward the ‘burbs, Pepito turned to Todd. “I take it we’re friends again?”
“I guess so.” Todd muttered, then hugged the Antichrist. “You still scare the shit out of me, though…”
They both started laughing at that, ignoring the irate screams of their neighbors and the barking of dogs in fenced-in yards.
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Here's Hoping for The Worst!